


New Blood

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4003654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF





	New Blood

_Royal Gardens_

Giggling children pranced around King Louis and Queen Anne who were relaxing in the summer sunshine on a enormous blanket spread out on the lush green grass. They were having a lawn fete for the children of the court today. There were dozens of petite ones floating about with most of them being entertained or, in some cases, trying to be corralled by their governesses.

But in one case, a certain young Gascon was enjoying the pleasures of the day, or had been trying too until one of the children pounced on his relaxing figure not too far from Queen Anne's side. “Ooof!” the air rushed out of d’Artagnan as Maximilian chose that moment to jump on top of his chest. “Max!” d’Artagnan growled, pretending he was upset, “that is not how a gentleman acts.”

Putting his finger in his mouth, Max chewed on it and mumbled around it. “Non! Not a gentleman.” Then he ran off to join the other children.

Shaking his head, with a small huff of laughter, d’Artagnan wondered why he even bothered admonishing the petite garcon, not quite four years of age, when clearly it sailed right over Max’s head.

“Charles,” Anne called out gently and beckoned him with a finger, tapping the empty spot beside her. “Louis and I have things to discuss with you.”

Rolling his eyes, d’Artagnan sighed deeply. “Not again,” he whined and pouted for their benefit but to no avail as Louis gave him the _look_. Whenever Louis did that d’Artagnan knew not to throw a fuss. Without getting up, he scooted over to Anne’s side. “Not another lecture please!” d’Artagnan begged, batting his ridiculously long eyelashes at her.

Slapping him gently on the arm, Anne smiled. “Louis and I have been having long discussions about your circumstances.” Noticing Charles was trying to milk his _pout_ for all he was worth, Anne turned a blind eye to it, as did Louis. “You’re my cousin and should be here at court with us and not working your family farm.”

Running his hand through his hair, d’Artagnan smoothed it back from his face. “We’ve talked about this before. Maman made her choice to leave Spain to marry my papa. They’re both gone now and someone has to run the family farm.”

“Charles,” Louis’ tone was gentle. “When Anne’s Great Aunt Adelina decided to follow Alexandre to Gascony, where he lived, she did so with a heavy heart. Anne never quite got over it and missed her greatly. She thrived on your families occasional visits to us, which were few and far between.”

“Farms do not run by themselves, Louis,” d’Artagnan snapped, not really meaning too but they had this conversation nearly every time he saw them.

“See that’s what we’ve been trying to get you to understand, Charles,” Louis said in exasperation. “You have reliable retainers to work your farm. We need you here with us as part of our famille.”

“There is just Louis and I, Charles and we miss you greatly,” Anne added.

“And there’s the waste of that sword arm of yours too,” Louis had been witness too d'Artagnan's talent with a blade at such a young age. “Captain Treville’s been boasting how well you’ve done with your lessons.”

“Between Uncle Jean-Armand and my papa I’ve been taught by the best,” d’Artagnan agreed. “I know you want me to eventually become a Musketeer but I’d feel like I’m abandoning all my papa worked for.” Getting up on his feet, d’Artagnan gave them both a curt bow and went over to where the children were playing.

“That went rather well wouldn’t you say?” Louis asked dryly as he sent Anne and apologetic look.

“As well as last time,” Anne sighed in defeat.

++++

“Why do we always get pulled for these dull details,” Aramis complained.

“Because we are the best in the regiment and Captain Treville trusts us not to let anything happen to the royal family,” Athos arched his brow high.

“Rubbish,” Porthos grunted. “Captain’s just punishin’ us for being out carousing until the wee hours of the morning last night which made us all late for muster.”

“He’s got a point, Athos,” Aramis smirked.

“Gentlemen,” Athos’ blue eyes glinted in the bright sunlight, “eyes on Their Majestys, s’il vous plait.

“I say,” Aramis covered his eyes with a hand, “there’s that youngster again with them.”

“Yeah,” Porthos snorted, “kid’s been here I’d say twice a year and I still don’t know who he is.”

“A son of some noble family or such that is close to the king and queen it would seem, considering how relaxed he is in their company.” The lad had never been in their vicinity long enough to talk with nor had Treville given them any information on the boy. It was not Athos to question on a subject that was not freely brought up by his superior. They were never given specific orders to guard the young man so Athos assumed he wasn’t of any great import. Then without warning, a small projectile nearly knocked Athos off his feet. When he glanced down it was to stare into the frightened eyes of a petite garcon.

“Max!” d’Artagnan shouted at him as he came to a running halt right in front of Athos. “Apologies,” he nodded at him and bent to pick up the child. “He’s a handful and I promised Anne and Louis I’d watch him.” Realizing these men didn’t know him, d’Artagnan grinned. “By the way I’m d’Artagnan. Nice to finally meet the inseparables.”

“You know of us?” Aramis was curious as to how this chiot knew who they were.

“Oui,” d’Artagnan chuckled as the wriggling bundle that was Max tried to get out of his hold. “Stay still,” he ordered gently and was rewarded when Max stopped his squirming. “Uncle Jean-Armand weaned me on you three,” he laughed, “or should I say _warned_ me.”

It was not lost on Athos that the pup had called their captain - _uncle_. “If you do not mind my asking,” Athos gave d’Artagnan his attention, “you freely call Their Majestys by their given names and you claim relation to Captain Treville,” he tilted his head as he studied the youngster. “You cannot be both.”

Seeing one of the governesses racing over to d’Artagnan’s side, he gratefully handed over Max to her more than capable hands. “You’re correct, Athos,” he smiled. “Jean-Armand is my _honorary_ uncle, having been very close with my papa. They even served together under Louis’ pere’s reign.”

“What about the king and queen?” Porthos liked the look of this whelp and wondered if he’d ever become a permanent fixture around here.

“Now there’s where I _can_ claim a relationship,” d’Artagnan grinned impishly. “I’m Anne’s second cousin.” Seeing he had surprised them all by admitting that, d’Artagnan went on to clarify further. “You see my maman was Anne’s great aunt and she fell in love with my papa who was from Gascony and they married in Spain but came back here to live.”

“From what you’ve said I gather your mother has departed this world to join our Lord?” Aramis asked.

“Both of my parents are gone,” d’Artagnan admitted with great regret. “Maman died many years ago when I was all of nine years of age, but it has only been recently that I just lost papa.”

“And Their Majestys have been doing their very best to convince the boy to come here and live with them at the palace,” Treville offered as he joined them. Overhearing part of the lad’s conversation with his men he had wanted to add his own two cents worth. “I especially would enjoy d’Artagnan being closer.”

Ducking his head in embarrassment, d’Artagnan knew what his uncle was about to say and couldn’t meet the inseparables eyes.

“I’ve wanted him here ever since Alexandre departed to join his beloved Adelina,” Treville eyed the boy with what amounted to pride. Glancing back at his men he made his announcement. “D’Artagnan has the makings to be the finest Musketeer I have ever seen. He’s had the benefit of having been trained by his pere and myself. All the lad needs now is the experience only my best men can give him.” Treville’s eyes traveled over each of his soldier’s shocked faces.

Well that explained away the obvious affection Treville had for this young man. Their captain seemed to think d’Artagnan quite skilled and it hadn't escaped Athos' notice that the boy didn’t boast about it either. That said a lot for the youth. Yet, he was a Gascon. They could be stubborn and hot headed at times, not something Athos was looking forward to dealing with. He had enough problems with Porthos and Aramis getting in and out of trouble on a regular basis. Not that he was an angel, not by a long shot. Still, Athos was the one supposed to be second-in-command and should reasonably be able to handle most situations.

Feeling embarrassed enough, d’Artagnan mumbled his excuses and left to re-join the others.

“He is _that_ good?” Athos questioned Treville.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it,” Treville snorted, seeing the wheels spinning in his lieutenant’s head. “The boy can take direction well, Athos, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

“It’s not that so much as adding a third _child_ turning it into a foursome,” Athos smiled as he observed the reactions from Porthos and Aramis as being referred to as children.

Treville’s belly laugh had heads turning in his direction. D’Artagnan, from his position on the blanket beside Louis, frowned wondering if they were still talking about him.

“I could use some staunch supporters in my corner when I try to twist d’Artagnan’s arm again about coming to us,” Treville stared hard Athos' way.

“I guess we could use some new blood in the regiment,” Athos’ gaze caught that of his other brothers and at their returning smiles knew it had been decided. “We will try to win him over to our side.”

“Merci,” Treville nodded, clapping a hand on Athos’ back. “Knew I could count on you three.”

Watching their captain go back over to where Their Majestys were, the inseparables wondered what they had gotten themselves into.

“Uncle Jean-Armand,” d’Artagnan’s unsettled look bounced from his uncle to Louis and then over to Anne. “What have you done?”

“I have three more in my corner to help sway you in your decision to come to live here, d’Artagnan,” Jean-Armand’s eyes danced in delight at the cross look on the boy’s face.

“You don’t play fair,” d’Artagnan accused, pouting again. “You know I'm in awe of them. How am I to refuse when they try to convince me to abandon all I have known.”

“Simple,” Jean-Armand shrugged, “you _don’t_.” Craning his neck he spotted Max getting into trouble again. “Think I’ll go rescue Max before he irritates Madame Michelle.”

“I feel we’ll be needing to set up d’Artagnan’s room finally,” Louis glanced at a very pleased Anne.

Throwing his hands up in the air, d’Artagnan strode away muttering to himself. Ending up in front of the inseparables, he gave up. “Fine!” his chin jutted out. “Convince me!”

“Non, d’Artagnan,” Athos shook his head. “Tis you who have to _convince_ us you're worthy of becoming a Musketeer.”

Walking over to Aramis, and without asking permission, d’Artagnan took the man’s sword out of his hand. Standing off to the side, he got the feel of the weight of it and then turned to face Athos. “Prepare to fight! One of us dies here!” d'Artagnan announced dramatically.

“Oh, this is gonna be gooooood,” Porthos grins over at Aramis who is still staring at his empty hand. “Don’t worry none. The whelp will give it back,” he laughed. “Relax and enjoy the show. My money’s on the pup.”

The End


End file.
